


Duck

by Lomeniel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bullying, F/M, Self-Doubt, Swearing, Weight Issues, body issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-30 12:18:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17223959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lomeniel/pseuds/Lomeniel
Summary: During what should've been a relaxing day in the park, the reader is bullied by a group of strangers. Gadreel swoops in to save her.





	Duck

**Author's Note:**

> This is THE most popular fic I have on tumblr, by FAR! Also, it's the first Gadreel fic I ever wrote (I only have two XP), so apologies if it's horribly ooc.

The hunt was over. Fucking finally!! After three gruelling weeks, night upon sleepless night of research, and one face palming epiphany, the three of you had reversed the curse that had turned the whole town into mindless zombies more or less.  
Of course, Gadreel had helped you out. He spent most of his days in the bunker or on the road with you anyway.  
At first, Sam and Dean, but especially Sam, had been super uncomfortable, but the angel had apologised and apologised, doing his best to earn forgiveness. Eventually the Winchesters had grown used to him being there, and you suspected they even began to enjoy his company.  
This made you very happy. The angel had grown on you too, and after a few months you realised that you had developed a teensy crush on him. All right. It wasn’t a tiny one: maybe you’d even go so far as to say you were in love – and although you’d never say it out loud, Dean had asked you why you were always humming “that song from Hercules”.  
You were way too scared for that; too protective of your feelings. Gadreel was an angel for crying out loud: a supreme being, divine in its proper sense. Kind and caring, always making you laugh, but he would never think of you as anything other than a friend.  
If he was even capable of falling in love, it wouldn’t be with you. You were too unremarkable for that; certainly not good enough for one as sweet as Gadreel. He ought to have someone wholesome and pure, and matching his striking beauty. You had too many issues, and you knew you couldn’t even begin to compare yourself to the angel.  
Ordinary really was the word for you. Chubby. Maybe even fat. No, he would never want anything more. But that didn’t stop you from enjoying your friendship to the fullest. A little was better than nothing at all, that was what your grandma always used to say, and you lived by her words.

“Come on!” you whined, poking Dean in the shoulder until he sighed and rolled his eyes. “We deserve a lazy day after this. Please? Let’s go feed the ducks in the park.”  
“Fine,” he grumbled, getting to his feet. “I guess you have a point. Let’s grab a few beers. Won’t be a day off without it.”  
“Sure,” you chirped, darting over the parking lot. If you were going to the park, you would be damned if you weren’t going to have a proper picnic, and the small store had just the right assortment of sandwiches and even ready sliced fruit. This was going to be a great day, you could feel it.

The handle on the cooler creaked when Sam let go of it. You’d found a perfect spot to relax for a while; far enough away to keep your conversations out of ordinary people’s ears (most people would probably think you were a bunch of role playing weirdoes, but you never knew if anyone was so creeped out they’d call the cops on you), but still in the sun.  
Dean immediately plopped down on the blanket you’d brought. “Oh yeah! This is nice. You were right, Y/N. A day off will do us good.” He wiggled his butt into the soft fabric and rubbed his hands together. “I’m not moving for at least an hour,” he added with a grin. “Sammy, pass me a beer, will you?”  
Grinning, Sam did as his brother asked, before fishing a battered copy of Dante’s Inferno out of his bag.  
You sat with them for a while, but you could never sit still for long. After a few minutes your legs started to itch, and you scrambled to your feet, watching the birds on the water.  
“Come on, Gadreel. I wanna feed the ducks.” You took his hand and pulled him to his feet, dragging him over to a vendor selling seeds and stale, old breadcrumbs.  
“Can the ducks not provide for themselves?” Gadreel asked, prompting a snort from you.  
“Of course they can. But this is nice. When you feed the birds you feel closer to nature, like there’s a bond between you and them.”  
“Ah,” said the angel with a serene smile. “That does sound nice.”  
You nodded and tried not to think about the romantic side of the activity – the one you’d conveniently left out of your explanation. If there was no real romance, you could at least pretend. It didn’t slip past Dean, though, and he winked at you, mouthing: “Go get him, tiger.” Flipping him off, you moved further down the water’s edge, out of Dean’s line of sight.  
As soon as the first handful of birdseeds hit the ground, several heads snapped up, beaks excitedly quacking, and before you knew it, a whole flock of ducks waddled out of the lake, surrounding the two of you. Gadreel let out a small laugh, and the sound rang through your chest like heavenly bells.  
The angel found so much joy in such a small act that you forgot about your own bag of seeds entirely, and instead watched as Gadreel squatted down and fed them from his hand. The first to brave this new experience was a colourful mallard drake, who quickly snatched a beakful and retreated to a safe distance. Soon, though, he – and most of the others – gained enough courage to hang around.  
They seemed to like the angel, you thought, and you couldn’t blame them. Gadreel was inherently good. Sure, he had made mistakes, and some of his mistakes had been quite a bit bigger than the occasional jaywalking incident, but every thing he had done, he had done with the best intentions. And that kindness seemed to register with the birds.  
When his bag was empty, he had two tiny green-winged teals on his shoulder and another, larger duck on his hand, and he almost looked like he was having a serious conversation with it.  
“Sorry,” he said to the ducks with regret in his voice. “I’m all out of seeds. It has been nice sharing these minutes with you.”  
“I still have more,” you said quickly, holding out your half-full bag. A wide smile spread over Gadreel’s face, and his hand lingered over yours for just a moment before he took the bag.  
The touch sent a shiver through your arm, and set your body on fire. For a moment, you just stared, but when Gadreel looked up, you shook your head and forced your gaze out over the water.  
“Your face is pink.” He got to his feet so he could look closer at your face, and tilted his head the way you had seen Castiel do when he was confused. “And your breath is faster.”  
“I’m warm,” you told him. It wasn’t exactly a lie: it was a nice, sunny day, and the way he stood so close to you made your blood boil. So yeah. You felt very warm indeed.  
“Oh. Would you like an ice cream?”  
You hesitated: you did want one, but really you shouldn’t. You were already struggling with your weight, and eating this would make you feel so guilty the next time you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror.  
It was the way it was: when you weren’t focused on it, your body felt just fine, there was nothing wrong with it except the odd ache or sprained ankle. But the moment someone drew your attention to the subject of looks or weight, it was like another person awoke inside your brain – a creature lying dormant until the opportunity arose – a creature that made maximum effort to stomp out the little self-esteem you had, and the rivalling logic and reason ran and hid somewhere in the neocortex. And eating unhealthy food while in public was just one of those things that set off a whole chain reaction of thoughts.  
Yeah, you’re a good actress. Fake it ‘til you make it, that’s what people say. And you’re good at faking stuff. But not so good you can make yourself believe it. But Gadreel looked so expectant, like a puppy who wants to play fetch, that you smiled and nodded before you could stop yourself.

You chose a medium sized cherry popsicle, and Gadreel got a chocolate covered vanilla ice cream, and as you strolled along the pathway, he made you forget about your insecurities for a while. It had been long since you could just enjoy an ice cream without any intrusive thoughts, and you loved Gadreel even more for it.  
“You see,” he said, licking a bit of ice cream and showing his tongue to you. “The way they make most of the food you humans eat… they pump it full of synthetic chemicals; it’s too much. The artificial flavours don’t blend very well, so it just tastes like the individual molecules used in the mix. But occasionally,” he added, wiping a white drop from his chin with his thumb, “you do get the blend almost perfect. Like this. It’s made with natural cream and real vanilla seeds, and the preservatives used are nearly masked. It is quite enjoyable.”  
You didn’t know what to say to that. To be honest, it was difficult to say anything at all; you were pretty distracted by the way he kept licking the slowly melting ice cream. So you settled for a nod and a non-committal noise, and focused on keeping the pink spectrum on your cheeks to a minimum.

When you passed a group of friends having a picnic under a large maple tree, you snickered from their initial reaction to the angel. Hushed whisperings and not-so-discreet groans from the female half of the group mixed with poorly disguised jealousy from the guys.  
“Holy crap, look at the arms on that one,” one of the girls hissed to her friend.  
You couldn’t help but glance at Gadreel’s arms. He had shed his usual hoodie jacket for a plain tee, and you understood too well what they were talking about. What you wouldn’t do to feel them around you…  
“Wow,” her friend replied, ogling the angel shamelessly. “He’s practically a god! I wonder what he does with her.”  
And there it was. Your stomach dropped, and you felt an overwhelming urge to hide your face in your arms, to bury your hands in your hair and scream. The popsicle no longer tasted anything – not even the molecules Gadreel talked about.  
One of the boys chimed in. “He must be blind or something. Imagine having her sitting on you – hell, I bet I couldn’t even lift her, much less carry her…”  
For some reason, their conversation – though not directed at you – drained you of all energy, and your pace slowed down. Gadreel was a few yards ahead of you when he noticed your absence, and he made his way back to you just in time to hear the last bit of their discussion.  
“Why would you need to be carried? As far as I can see, you can stand perfectly well on your own feet.” Gadreel frowned, looking like there was nothing that confounded him as much as humans did. It was probably true.  
You exhaled and pinched the bridge of your nose. It was bad enough that a group of strangers had singled you out and found your insecurities without effort, but now you had to explain it to your crush?  
It was time to stand up for yourself, even though the thought scared the crap out of you. Yes, there was a lot of things you didn’t like about yourself, but you’d be damned if someone else was going to make it worse.  
“They are referring to me being fat,” you said, emphasising the last word, loud enough for the group to hear, and sure enough: as soon as you spoke up, they seemed to diminish.  
“But,” Gadreel began, but you interrupted him.  
“And the fact that I probably weigh too much for any of them to lift.”  
A light flickered on behind Gadreel’s sceptical eyes.  
Unfortunately, the size of their group made them brave – or maybe there’s cowardice in numbers. Whatever the reason, a couple of the boys turned and looked you directly in the eyes. They wanted you to hear them, and you didn’t have the strength to look away.  
“Ooh! I bet that wobbles when she runs.” The boy snickered, nodding his head to the guy next to him.  
“Oh come on Dave, like she’s ever ran in her life. Look at her. All she does is sit on the sofa all day.”  
“That is not true,” Gadreel began, softly, as if explaining to small children.  
You put your hand on his upper arm. “Let it go,” you said, low enough that only the angel’s heightened hearing could pick it up.  
“But it is not,” he responded, turning to you. “Last month you nearly outrun a –“  
“Let it go, please. They’re just –“  
“ – werewolf.”  
“ – being mean.”  
You spoke simultaneously, and Gadreel stopped in his tracks. He watched you with wide eyes as if he couldn’t believe what you were saying.  
“It’s all right,” you told him, offering a small smile. “I’m used to it. And besides, they’re not wrong.” Looking down, you focused on a small tuft of grass to forget about the stinging in your eyes. The last thing you needed now was for the waterworks to start so they could make fun of that too. And maybe Gadreel would realise how weak you were and leave.  
Chancing a small glance up when you heard a sharp intake of breath, you watched as Gadreel’s mouth curled, and his eyes darkened.  
“Finally realising how disgusting the hippo is, huh?” The gang laughed.  
The angel’s nostrils flared, and you weren’t sure if he would start laughing or call down the rage of God. You tugged on his sleeve again. “Can we just leave?”  
By now he truly looked like he wanted to rip them a new one; his closed expression making his eyes blaze with contempt, and you felt oddly proud that you deserved such a reaction from him – until you remembered how the angel thought of bullies and manipulative bastards in general. Your pride deflated faster than a punctured balloon. Not only were you ugly and fat, you were stupid and conceited as well.  
Swallowing hard to stop the tears you knew were bound to appear any moment; you slowly turned your back on the group and tugged on Gadreel’s sleeve again.  
“Let’s just go back to Sam and D –“  
“Oh, isn’t it adorable?” one of the girls said in a sickly sweet voice. How she wasn’t intimidated by the angel’s steely glare, had to be one of life’s great mysteries. “That’s just what my kitten does when he wants me to pick him up –“  
“ – except no one can pick up that one.” The answer was muttered, but loud enough for all to hear. The hearty laugh that followed made you want to throw up.  
There was a splat on the ground, and as you looked down, you spotted the remains of vanilla ice cream melting into the grass, and without warning Gadreel wrapped his strong arms around you, spinning you to face him before hooking one arm under your knees. You squealed as he lifted you as easily as if you weighed no more than a feather, and he held you close to his chest.  
Smiling from the unexpected turn this had taken, you rested your head on his chest, listening to the rumble of his voice resonating through his torso.  
“For your information,” he said to the blinking gang, enunciating every word so they wouldn’t miss it, “she is the most beautiful being I have ever seen, both on Earth and in Heaven. Her soul weighs lighter and shines brighter than any of yours do.”  
Not knowing how to react, you looked up to see nothing but burning sincerity in the angel’s eyes; it was clear for the whole world to see that he spoke the truth.  
“One day,” he continued with a grimace, “you’ll understand that you do not follow my Father’s intentions. You were not placed on this Earth to be cruel.” Holding you up with only one hand, he mockingly saluted them, smirking when he saw their shocked faces. Then he marched away.  
He carefully sat you down on the blanket next to Dean, and before either Winchester could ask what the hell happened, Gadreel made a low rolling, gurgling sound, far back in his throat. Following his gaze, you saw a couple of the ducks waddling over to the group of strangers – quacking angrily and snapping at their ankles. And you had to laugh when one of the girls screamed and jumped to her feet, skipping around herself and flapping her arms violently. It was clear by the disgusted expression on her friends’ faces, and the mountain of napkins landing in front of her that one of the ducks had given her a rather large present.  
Dean and Sam sat like question marks until you Gadreel told them what happened. “…and you know I can not stay silent when someone is treated badly,” he said, finishing off with a grimace of judgement. His lips straightened, and his left eye twitched.  
“Sonofabitch!” Dean exclaimed, hand on his gun almost before the angel had ended his tale.  
“Come on, Dean. Let’s go teach those assholes a lesson.” Sam was halfway on his feet before you stopped him.  
Groaning, you dragged a hand over your eyes. “Please. Don’t. I don’t – I don’t want you to cause a scene.”  
They looked at each other, doing one of those talking without talking things they always did, and you suspected they were plotting something in secret.

 

“For the record,” Gadreel said after a long, uncomfortable silence, “I do not find you disgusting or ugly. You are one of the most beautiful souls in the universe. You are kind, and caring, and… what is that word Dean always uses? Badass.”  
“That’s true,” Sam and Dean said in unison.  
You smiled, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes, and you gratefully accepted the beer Sam offered you. Maybe it was wrong, but a bottle always offered some comfort. “Thank you. But I’m not sure the rest of the world agree.” Yeah, you knew they liked you; you figured they wouldn’t bother keeping you around if they didn’t. Badass, sure, if the need arose, but beautiful? No way.  
“You know,” Gadreel continued with a grim smile, annoyed that you was so adamant to not believe him. “I really should go back and smite those… those…”  
“Don’t go,” you said, your voice thin and weak.  
The angel scooted closer and took your hand. “If you don’t want me to go, I won’t.”  
“Thank you.” Sighing, you rolled the bottle between your hands. “I don’t know what I did to deserve a friendship like yours, but I bet someone will soon come and take it away.”  
“No, Y/N,” he replied, brushing his thumb over the back of your hand. “It is I who are unworthy. I…” Glancing towards the Winchesters as if he was trying to remember something, he cleared his throat loudly.  
“Uh… I think I… left something in the car,” Dean stuttered, almost knocking his brother over in his rush to get away.  
“Yeah. Me… me too,” Sam said, hurrying after Dean, leaving you and Gadreel alone.  
“Please tell me that your speeding heart when I lifted you was a mirror of my own and not a result of you being upset with those… those heathens.”  
This time you had no chance to the surge of blood to your cheeks, and your whole face felt on fire. He had felt that. “What?” That was the only response you could get out.  
“Oh.” Gadreel’s face fell. “So you were only upset.” His shoulders slumped forward, and he turned away to hide his disappointment.  
Reaching out, you felt a small electric charge as your hand touched his. “Wait, Gadreel. I was just confused –“ Coughing awkwardly, you tried to find the best words, but none seemed to fit. “I’m… I’m just me. I mean, you can’t possibly… You’re perfect – and I’m…” Sigh. This was going spectacularly wrong. “No,” you said after a small pause. “I wasn’t upset. Or… I was, but that’s not…”  
Inhaling deeply, you looked up into his concerned eyes and made up your mind. It was time you owned up to your feelings. “I…” Having made up your mind didn’t make it any easier. “I think I’m in love with you. But I’m not good enough for you.” The words flew from your lips, and you tilted your head in reply to Gadreel’s frown.  
“Excuse me?”  
“Look at me. I know what you said, but…”  
Pulling you close so you could lean against him, he leaned down to press a small kiss to your cheek. “You are beautiful, Y/N,” he whispered. “Perfect – just the way you are. And one day you will see yourself through my eyes, and know that it is true. Until then…” He paused to kiss your forehead lightly. “Until that day I will happily remind you of your worth, of your impact on the world every time your doubt emerges.”


End file.
